


just want to fight with everyone else

by exhaustedwerewolf



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bull's Chargers, Canon-Typical Violence, Families of Choice, Found Family, I'll add characters and relationships as I go, Inquisitor!Krem, Krem centric, Krem is the Inquisitor!AU, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating May Change, Saving the World, also idk how to tag this, etc. - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2018-12-01 11:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11485464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exhaustedwerewolf/pseuds/exhaustedwerewolf
Summary: With Dalish injured and resting in Redcliffe, Krem splits up from the Chargers to deliver a message to the nearby Conclave for some easy coin. The resulting tragedy changes his life, and the fate of Thedas is left quite literally in his hands- those of a treasonous 'vint that the world has turned its back on time and time again. Bonds, faith, and fortitude are to be tested, and honestly? Krem kinda just wants to go back to hunting dragons with the Chargers.





	1. Prologue

_ It’s like dragonfire,  _ Krem thought, remembered thinking, in an instant, the space before a breath. It was the sound of it, the blazing heat and light. But it had been a hundred, a thousand times more intense; blinding, sudden and searing, and then all of Thedas was gone. 

 

The darkness receded first, vanished away by the all-too-familiar sensation of distant pain that was about to get a lot less distant. Dizziness and disorientation, however, lingered. The thick smell, metal and mildew, hit him before he could pry open his heavy eyes, lift his lolling head and find himself kneeling, wrists cuffed. Stone bricks and bars, illuminated by torchlight that was almost too bright after the darkness of unconsciousness.  _ A cell. Chief is gonna kill me if he has to bail me out of jail. Again.  _

 

He took an unsteady breath, focusing on keeping his eyes open, and felt the sharpness of the pain in his-  _ hand? Vishante kaffas _ \- but looking down at it, unfurling his fingers somewhat reluctantly, found it unmarred. Confusion coiled in his stomach, heavy as dread, and then a noise like a lightning strike up close, a vivid green light, a tearing agony. Krem couldn’t help but cry out, recoil as if to put distance between himself and the…

 

“Shit.” He managed, breathlessly, clenching his jaw, staring down at his hand, waiting, frozen, for whatever had just happened to happen again.

 

Instead, a heavy iron door was thrown noisily open and two figures appeared, silhouetted in the frame. They strode with purpose into the room; both women, the first with a sword at her side, and a confident, authoritative gait, the second dressed in hooded robes. Krem heard all around him the shrieking of swords being sheathed as they approached him, and was further unsettled to look around and realise that he was surrounded by guards.

 

_ What in the name of the Maker have I done this time? _

 

The armed woman circled him, stopped behind him, and Krem tensed; there was no way for him to break his bonds, no way for him to defend himself- he had thought it impossible, but in that moment he realised that he had forgotten what it felt to be truly powerless. Every fibre of his being was aflame with the sensation; his blood burned, his heart thundered. She leant down, and all he could do was brace himself, trying to look brave, feel his breath snuffed out in his throat despite it. 

 

_ Maker, please. I want to die standing.  _ The memory returned unbidden, his face pressed against the floor, their voices, raised triumphant, the blood thick in his mouth-

 

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” The voice in his ear brought him back to the present, to being knelt in a cell encircled by strangers. “The Conclave is destroyed,” The woman drew herself up, came around to stand before him, “everyone who attended is dead.” She stopped, looked him dead in the eyes.

 

“Except for you.”

 

_ The Conclave.  _ It rushed back all at once, Redcliffe, the journey, the meeting, the message,  _ but- destroyed?  _ Krem’s head spun, he opened his mouth, still formulating a response, but without warning, the woman seized his hand.

 

“Explain this!” She demanded, and again the green light crackled to life- she didn’t flinch. Krem grit his teeth. 

 

“I can’t! Look, I have no idea what that thing is-!” He forced out, but she interrupted.

 

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

 

“I mean that I don’t know what happened or- what’s going on-” Krem was uncomfortably aware of what she must be seeing, a  _ Vint,  _ a mercenary, an  _ outsider _ -

 

“You’re  _ lying! _ ” The woman surged forward, face contorted with fury, grabbing his collar, and Krem cursed himself for shrinking away, but her companion stepped forward, guided her back. 

 

“We need him, Cassandra.” She said firmly, her face set, determined. Cassandra glared darkly, but didn’t argue. 

 

“Please- can you tell me what’s happening?” Krem asked the hooded woman, a touch desperately, his mind racing.

 

“Do you not remember what happened?” She asked, her gaze intent. “How this began?”

 

“I…” Krem trailed off, giving his head an abrupt shake. “Running- I was running- being chased.”  _ Always with the being chased.  _ Grasping for the memories was like feeling around in the dark for something that simply wasn’t there. He closed his eyes briefly. “A woman?” he recalled.

 

“A woman?” the hooded woman repeated, leaning forward.

 

Krem struggled, trying to picture the scene, but all that came to him were embers, tendrils of smoke or mist, and then an outstretched hand, fingers grazing his own-

 

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana.” Cassandra’s voice jolted him from his thoughts. “I will take him to the Rift.” 

 

Krem looked up to see Leliana’s eyes still on him and thought he identified reluctance in them. Still, she nodded to Cassandra, and took her leave.

 

There was a clinking sound as Cassandra produced a small key, and stooped to undo the chains that shackled him to the cell floor, but she left his hands in manacles. Still, he could hardly blame her, and as he was pulled to his feet he felt a portion of the anxiety drain away, and he squared his shoulders as best he could before asking;

 

“What happened at the Conclave?”

 

“It-” Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him, her grip on his arm tightening, still clearly disbelieving. Then, she sighed. “It will be easier to show you.” 


	2. Those who oppose thee // Shall know the wrath of heaven

The cold was the one thing about Ferelden that Krem felt he’d never get used to; it seemed almost to ambush him as he was led outside, piercing and oddly visceral. The sound of snow crunching underfoot, the rawness of the chill air and the white daylight served to ground him as he followed Cassandra. That was, until he heard the thunderous noise again, accompanied abruptly by the potent feeling of something stirring and then exploding outwards in his chest, cutting as pain, fervid as faith, a feeling so inexplicably large it seemed almost to overflow, spilling into his throat, suffocating. Involuntarily, he brought his bound hands up to shield his face and winced, screwing closed his eyes. It wasn’t until the sensation had seceded slightly, the disturbing intensity of it dimmed, that he registered that the source of the sound wasn’t coming from his strange new mark, but was distant. Resoloutely, he dropped his hands, forced his eyes open, and looked up towards the origin of the noise.

 

And stared. Silent. Because what else could he do? Because it was a gigantic hole in the sky, all tendrils of sickening green light and forked tongues of lightning and clouds swirling as if caught in a whirlpool, and the size of it-

 

“We call it the Breach,” Cassandra said, without turning to face him. Krem couldn’t help but admire how remarkably calm she sounded with her eyes on a monstrosity like that. “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger which each passing hour.”

 

“It’s growing larger?” Krem asked, horror undisguised. Glancing back, Cassandra answered with a curt nod.

 

“It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

 

“That’s just- great.” Krem shook his head. He was starting to feel dizzier than a marabi on a barrel full of mead. “Wonderful.” Cassandra turned back to him, her expression disapproving. Krem was starting to get the feeling her face was like that a lot of the time.

 

“Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

 

She seemed about to go on, but was interrupted by a further noise from the Breach, like a stone whistling through the air and striking the ground, but somehow tremendous, almost deafening. As they turned back to it, a new light was torn from the gash in the sky. The strange sensation surged suddenly with a viciousness that Krem couldn’t have imagined, twisting and tearing with such ferocity that he couldn’t bite back the cry of pain, keep his knees from giving in. Vivid green light poured from between his clenched fingers as he cringed uselessly, grit his teeth. Cassandra dropped down beside him, and her face was illuminated eerily- her features almost statuesque, as if carved from veridium.

 

“Each time the Breach expands,” and as quickly as the light had flickered to life, it died, and Krem heard Cassandra's next words under his gasp for breath. “Your mark spreads… And it is killing you.”

 

Krem felt his blood turn to ice in every vein in his body; he was a mirror wracked abruptly with spidering cracks, the seizing of a heart, an open wound. He looked up desperately to search Cassandra’s face for any trace of dishonesty, but her jaw was set.

 

“It may be the key to stopping this,” she continued. “But there isn’t much time.”

For a moment, Krem said nothing, did nothing but looked into this stranger’s face. Allowed himself a few moments of unrestrained inner terror and acute grief. Spared a thought for the Chargers, pictured them all crowded together on a street back in Redcliffe, staring up at the sky. Steeled himself. And stood. Straightened his spine, sucked in air, drew on his days as a soldier.

 

“Fine.” He was, after all, a practiced liar, but the solidity of his tone impressed even himself. He was, after all, still a soldier. 

 

“Then?” Cassandra prompted, getting to her feet.

 

“I am at your order,” he paused, looking to her, expectant.

 

“Seeker Pentaghast.” She supplied, her voice clipped and professional.

 

“Seeker Pentaghast.” He repeated with a respectful nod of his head. Cassandra looked on, eyes narrow, clearly still dubious. “I’m willing to do whatever I can. Please,” his attempt at a gentlemanly gesture fell a little flat with his hands still bound. “Lead the way, and I will follow.”

 

Pressing her lips together, Cassandra dipped her head in cautious acknowledgement, and took hold of his armour by which to escort him.

 

☼

 

Krem was led stumbling through a chaotic cluster of tents and crowded, accusing faces.

 

“They have decided your guilt.” Cassandra told him. “They need it.”

 

Krem kept his gaze forward and attempted to ignore the angry eyes on him as they passed through, the hushed and hostile whispers. He tried to remind himself that it’d been him against the world before and he’d come out alive, but that was just another feeling he was finding he’d forgotten. He focused instead on one foot in front of the other, on Cassandra’s rough Nevarran accent.

 

“The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, Head of the Chantry.” Her tone was sharp with sorrow. “The Conclave was hers. It was a change for peace between mages and Templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.” The crowd left behind, Cassandra steered Krem towards an imposing gate that was opened with a great clattering as they approach.

 

“We lash out, like the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves. As she did.” They emerged through the gates and onto a bridge lined with soldiers and barricades. The frigid wind picked up as they stepped out, stinging and cruel.

 

“Until the Breach is sealed.” Cassandra released Krem, and he recognised the short shrill sound of a knife being unsheathed, and tensed as she turned to him. Her voice softened just slightly.

 

“There will be a trial. I can promise no more.” Almost casually, she took his hands and sliced through his bindings.

 

 _If I’m still alive for it,_ Krem didn’t say, rubbing at his wrists.

 

"Thank you." He said instead, reflexively. 

 

“Come,” and now she paused, and for the first time he looked at her properly, the short cropped dark hair, the way she held herself in her armour, the grave set to her mouth. The deep set scar just to the right of it, he caught himself wondering about it, and then felt intrusive, and tried to stop thinking about it.

“What do they call you?” She said. He considered a lie in the kind of practised, natural way one might consider taking a walk. But with doomsday hanging over them like the shadow of a low flying dragon, it didn't seem to matter much, so he said;

 

“Krem.”

 

“Come, Krem.” She pronounced his name with surprising care, as if testing a foreign phrase. “It is not far.”

 

☼

 

They ran, and Krem inwardly thanked the Chief for all the suicides he’d put the Chargers through over the years. One soldier sprinted past countless others, most fleeing in the opposite direction- Krem refused to acknowledge the looks in their eyes. Some lying injured by the roadside, (“Don’t stop,” Cassandra told him,) many too still, some already bagged and anonymous, piled into wagons. The mountaintop air was thin and searingly cold in his throat. Fires engulfed blockades, carts, trees, their crackle and hiss inappropriately similar to the playful song of a campfire. In the distance, or reeling by as another survivor bolted past, Krem heard the occasional snatched scream or shout (“Maker, it’s the end of the world!”) and underneath it always the tumultuous noise of the Breach, thunderous and awful. Once, a sudden surge knocked Krem from his feet, left him clutching his hand to his chest in the snow; Cassandra pulled him back to a standing position.

 

“The pulses are coming faster now.” She informed him.

 

He nodded, and they were off again. As they ran, she recounted the tale of his survival; the man who’d been sighted stepping out of the Breach, delivered by a mysterious woman, the complete destruction of the Conclave.

Krem kept on, listening in silence with his eyes fixed on the rent in the heavens; which might have explained why he didn’t see the light streaking towards the bridge the pair were crossing until it had almost collided with it and the lurid green had filled his vision. He didn’t remember the bridge bursting apart so much as he did the feeling of falling, the stone crumbling to rubble all around him, his harsh, jarring landing on the frozen lake below. He was already up on his knees, looking around for Cassandra, who was struggling back a sitting position, when a second great crash seemed almost to shake the ice. In a great eruption of emerald flame, a demon rose as if from the waters of the lake with a gurgling roar. It was almost human in shape, but faceless under its hood, gaunt and grotesquely proportioned. Before Krem could react, Cassandra was tearing past, sword in hand, shouting out to him;

 

“Stay behind me!”

 

She rushed at the apparition, but as she did, Krem caught sight of a warping of the surface of the ice close to where he stood. At first it appeared only to smoke, but as he watched it began to bubble and sizzle, glowing with a rapidly intensifying green hue. Krem had little experience with demons, but it didn’t take a scholar to guess what was about to burst from the Fade. Desperately, he cast about, and swore under his breath in relief when his eyes fell upon a shortsword and shield, discarded on the bank. He lunged for them just as the demon materialised in an explosion of blinding, screaming light. With a shout, he drove his sword forward into the demon’s chest, but it was like attacking a shadow; there was no substance to the creature. He’d thrown too much weight behind the thrust and just barely caught himself from slipping on the ice, only just brought up his shield to deflect a strike from its clawed hands. This time, he centred himself, and slashed at it instead of stabbing; he was rewarded with a spray of hot dark ichor, and a pained growl. He stepped back out of range of a retaliating talon, glanced once to Cassandra, glimpsed her knock her demon down with a strike from her shield, and satisfied, turned back to his. He sliced quickly- once, twice, three times more, ducked a clumsy, frenzied swipe from its claws, and surged up with his blade, effectively skewering his demon, which fell as he withdrew, and dematerialised, melting away as perfectly as snow in sunlight. He had barely registered the end of the fight- still had his sword at the ready, was staring at where the corpse had been, when Cassandra rounded on him, her own demon dead, blade brandished at him in warning.

 

“Drop your weapon.” She demanded. “Now!”

 

“Seeker.” Krem acknowledged quickly, letting the sword fall to the ice with a clatter at once, raising in his hands in surrender. Cassandra’s eyes flickeered between the weapon and the bloodstained mercenary's face, while Krem waited, trying to school his breathing, affect a passive expression.

 

Cassandra looked away, to her own sword, at the red rivulets running off it and onto the ice, and sheathed it. “I- No, it is no matter. Take it.” Krem gave a respectful dip of the head before stooping to retrieve it. “I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenceless.”

 

“Thank you, Seeker Pentaghast. I'll use it well.” Krem answered, and she nodded curtly. _Never let it be said that I don’t know how to play passive,_ he thought a touch bitterly.

 

“Let us press on. We have no time to waste.”

 

☼

 

They hurried on for what must’ve been almost an hour longer, occasionally forced to stop to cut through more demons- Cassandra identified the clawed, robed ones to him as shades, and pointed out wraiths, weaker but able to attack from a distance, hurling out pulses of spirit energy. Krem found they were easy enough to strike down with practice, but exhaustion was setting in, and if these things just kept coming through… even the strongest soldier in the world couldn’t fight forever.

 

“We’re getting close to the rift! You can hear the fighting!” Cassandra called to him from ahead. They were rushing up a stone staircase carved into a cliff face, kicking up showers of snow. He saw her falter on an unevenly cut stair, but she barely slowed.

 

“Who’s fighting?” Krem shouted back, over the growing noise of steel, raised voices, hellish shrieks and human cries mixing in an unholy cacophony.

 

“You will see soon. We must help them.”

 

The pair crested the staircase and found themselves at once at the fringes of a fight. Soldiers and- an elf and a dwarf? There was hardly time to take count- locked in combat with a pair of demons, darting around tumbledown stone walls and debris.  Above them- and the sight of it brought Krem to a momentary halt- a rend suspended in the air, a miniature Breach, pulsing with viridescent light- a Rift, he realised. Cassandra dove into the fray without hesitation, and drawing his blade, he followed.

Krem rushed around the back of one of the closest demons, distracted by the assault of a group of soldiers at its front, ran it through- it fell with a bloodcurdling cry. A streak of arcane energy grazed his cheek, shockingly cold, and he turned to see it slam into the chest of the still standing shade. As he looked on, bolts sprouted from its shoulder, and it dissolved with a wail, as if turned to dust. A quick glance around the battlefield, at the soldiers bracing themselves against the walls, panting exhausted, and he knew it was over. Krem made his way towards Cassandra, who was standing now beside the elf; a bald individual with a proud bearing and a serious face, armed with a staff. The two of them were close to the shimmering crack in the fabric of reality.

 

“Quickly,” The elven mage seized Krem’s hand without warning when he drew near enough. “Before more come through!”

The mage thrust Krem's hand towards the rift, and poisonous arcane light rushed along the length of his arm. Energy crackled and fizzled hotly in the frigid air, bridging between the rift and Krem's own outstretched fingertips. He set his teeth against the dizzying, overwhelming sensation rising within him again, but as he stared, eyes watering against the brightness, the otherworldly glow of the rift seemed to stutter. An eerie rushing, ringing sound, built as energy cascaded between Krem's hand and the rift, rising until it stung, distorting into a shriek that rattled Krem's very bones. And then, a heartbeat of stasis, before all at once it seemed to collapse in on itself, the sound cut short, as if sucked away, and the rift crumbled into nothingness. The light in his hand died, and Krem wrenched it away.

 

"How did you do that?" He asked the elven mage, a little breathlessly, not sure wether to be impressed or horrified.

 

“I did nothing.” The elf responded, “the credit is yours.” He smiled just slightly as he spoke, and Krem felt himself instantly wary. Also, he was getting tired of strangers grabbing his hand. _At least buy me dinner first,_ he complained inwardly, rubbing at his wrist.

 

"At least this thing has some use." He said instead, not taking his eyes off the mage.

 

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand." The elf said musingly. "I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct.”

 

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself.” Cassandra added.

 

“Possibly.” He levelled an appraising look in Krem's direction, reminiscent, he thought, of the Chief's Ben-Hassrath expression. He didn't like seeing it on a stranger one bit, could practically feel himself bristling. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

 

Maybe it was the stress, but Krem had to bite back a wry smile, because Maker, if that isn’t a new one.

 

“Good to know!” An amused voice cut in. Krem turned to find a beardless dwarf with a crossbow strapped to his back, fiddling idly with his gloves, “Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” He actually couldn’t help but let out a slightly tense, dazed sort of laugh at that, stifling the noise with his hand when Cassandra shot him a disapproving look. The dwarf, at least, looked flattered, and strolled towards the group.

 

“Varric Tethras,” he introduced himself, flashing a troublemaker’s grin. “Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally,” he glanced towards Cassandra with a wink, “unwelcome tagalong.”

 

Cassandra’s face crumpled as if she’d just smelt something foul. Krem supposed she wasn’t the biggest fan of the longish, pulled back hair, the gold earrings, the mischievous glint to his eye. Suppressing a smile, he turned very deliberately away from her to face Varric.

 

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He said, and caught the flicker of surprise play over Varric’s face at recognition of his accent, though it was gone almost at once. “That’s a fine crossbow.”

 

“Isn’t she?” Varric’s face lit up, and he turned to the weapon with a soft expression, as if turning to face a lover. “Bianca and I have been through alot together.”

 

“Bianca,” Krem laughed. “A fine name for a fine work of craftsmanship.”

 

“Oh, I think I'm gonna like you.” Varric declared. Krem appreciated the sentiment, although he privately wished Varric hadn’t told him so in front of Cassandra, whom he was expecting to start steaming from the ears at any moment now. “At least we won’t be charging to our deaths in the Valley with _two_ sticks in the mud.”

 

“Absolutely not.” Cassandra barked. "Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…”

 

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?" The dwarf's expression was smug. "Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.”

 

Cassandra snorted with derision, glaring at Varric, and the elven mage addressed Krem.

 

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.” Krem hesitated, before he reached out with his unmarked hand for a handshake.

 

“Cremisius,” he’d hold back his last name, at least, he decided, hearing the Chief’s admonishments in his ear. “But just Krem is fine.” Solas responded with a wry smile.

 

“Then, I’m pleased to see you still live, Krem.”

 

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'” Varric supplied helpfully, still locked in a staring contest with Cassandra Krem took a small step back, feeling momentarily sick, but recovered quickly.

 

"Then I owe you my thanks. I'm grateful for your help." He managed, drawing on the 'Tevinter charm' the others occasionally press-ganged him into whipping out.

 

"Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process." Solas said grimly. “Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is no mage." Thank Andraste, Krem thought that he'd most certainly be dead by now if they had any reason to believe an evil Tevinter _magister_ had blown up the Conclave. "Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

 

“Understood." Cassandra acknowledged. "We must get to the forward camp quickly.” She started off, Solas close on her heels, leaving Krem standing alone in the snow. It was difficult to tell, but it appeared to be falling thicker and faster now, flurries swirling all around. Varric sauntered past him.

 

“Well," he spread his arms casually. "Bianca’s excited!” Krem offered him an unsteady smile, and they followed Cassandra and Solas.

 

“This way, down the bank." Cassandra called from ahead. "The road ahead is blocked.”

 

“We must move quickly.” Solas added, and the four of them began the downwards climb through the rubble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for all the time this took! If it's any consolation the following chapter is already almost done, because I ended up splitting this one so that I could have something out faster. Thank you so much to anyone who's reading; comments would be greatly appreciated! I'm still learning (and have no idea what I'm doing really) and feedback of any kind is invaluable.


	3. Lightning shall rain down from the sky // They shall cry out to their false gods,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krem fights to reach the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

They met more demons on the frozen riverbed, and lurking in the mouth of a shallow cave, and Krem found himself falling quite comfortably into step with Solas and Varric, easily side stepping spells and bolts, steering shades away from his newfound comrades where he could.

 

"Glad you brought me now, Seeker?" Varric called out over the buffeting of the winter wind, as the last of a group was dispatched. She led them on at a run without reply.

 

"So," Varric asked soon after, taking aim with Bianca. "What's a 'Vint like yourself doing in Ferelden?" There was a satisfying mechanical sound as the bolt was released.

 

"What gave me away?" Krem asked sarcastically, back pressed to the dwarf’s, as he parried a nasty claw strike. 

 

"I'm all kinds of impressive," he eyed Krem over his shoulder, noting his face flushed from the frigid wind and the snow caught in his hair, “Kremsicle.” The nickname sent a jolt through Krem- he swung his blade straight into the demon, cleaving it almost in two, drew back spattered in its blood.

 

“No,” he said shortly, and then, registering the dwarf’s surprise in his silence, forced a laugh. “I just- get enough of that from someone else.”

 

“Ah,” Varric replied. “Well we can't have that, can we? A writer needs his originality.” He let loose another bolt without even glancing at his target; thirty feet away another demon fell with a distorted scream cut short. “Don't you worry, I'll think of something else.

 

After another hard run, the mark flared to life again. Krem breathed in sharply and slowed, and although he tried to compose himself, his companions took notice.

 

"Shit, you alright?" Varric asked, slowing beside him. Solas waved for the group to stop, and took Krem’s hand, examining it with narrowed eyes. 

 

"We must hurry, before the mark consumes him." He said. Unfortunately, he looked entirely serious. 

 

"Hold on. We haven't much further." Cassandra said, more encouragingly, leading them away from the ice and towards a set of winding stone steps in the mountainside. Gazing up at them, Krem felt faintly nauseous, but he didn't allow himself to linger. 

 

“So… " Varric said as they begun to climb, conversationally, and Krem was grateful for the attempt to distract him. "Are you innocent?”

 

“I can't remember anything of what happened.” The steps here too were snowlogged, slippery; Krem kept his gaze firmly on his boots.

 

“That’ll get you every time.” Varric sounded amused. “Should have spun a story.”

 

“That’s what you would have done.” Cassandra said accusingly. 

 

“It’s more believable, and less prone to result in premature execution.” Varric countered. Krem tried not to think on the word ‘execution,’ focused instead on the scorching cold air in his throat, breathed in and out with each step.

 

At the crest of the stairs was another collection of demons, dispatched with practiced efficiency if not ease. The breakneck pace set by Cassandra was taking its toll on all of them. When the last was turned to smoke, the Seeker sheathed her sword with a terse sigh.

 

“I hope Leliana made it through all this.”

 

“She’s resourceful, Seeker.” Varric said earnestly. Solas was already headed along the path.

 

“We will see for ourselves at the forward camp. We’re almost there.”

 

☼

 

Bodies, flames, and stone steps whirled by; Krem was left only with impressions of red stained snow, pained cries, the sudden contradictory heat of nearby flames on his skin- it was all blurring together by the time Cassandra shouted back in warning;

 

“Another rift!”

 

“We must seal it, quickly!” Solas called out, as they flew up yet more stairs, and found themselves at the edge of a battlefield lit in poisonous green. A soldier, clutching at his sword arm but still swinging, spun to face them.

 

“They keep coming!” His eyes were wide and terrified. “Help us!”

 

With the new aid, the soldiers made short work of the demons, but fighting alongside them, it was clear to Krem, from their faulty strikes, their failing footing, that they were beyond exhaustion. They were forced to fight around bodies lying still in the snow. When the last demon was vanquished, those soldiers still standing didn't break their stance, brandishing their weapons with shaking hands, gazes fixed, haunted, on the rift.

 

“Hurry! Use the mark!” Solas urged Krem even as he stepped forward, lowering his blade, and raised his hand as steadily as he could. 

 

Calling upon it himself felt different. Plunging into the surface of what looked to be a glassy lake and finding yourself submerged in a stormy sea, all crashing, crushing waves and vertigo and loss of gravity. He closed his eyes to it this time, let the eerie ringing sounds flood his senses, tasted the salt and the electricity of it on his tongue, planted his feet and stood against the onslaught, quaking from the force of it- and then the noise and the surging was vanished, as if he had only imagined the feeling. But when he cracked open his eyes...

 

“The rift is gone! Open the gate!” Cassandra commanded.

 

“Right away, Lady Cassandra!”

 

Krem looked down at his hand in silence. The gazes of the remaining soldiers weighed heavily as he stared. Solas and Varric moved to flank him on either side. 

 

“We are clear for the moment.” Solas kept his eyes forward, on the opening gate. “Well done.”

 

“Whatever that thing on your hand is, it’s useful.” Varric pointed out, leaning closer to look at it.

 

“That's one definition.” Krem admitted, curling his fingers closed deliberately. Even out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that Varric wasn’t offended; he seemed to smile before averting his eyes. Cassandra returned to their sides, and with an indicative nod, led them through the gate. 

 

☼

 

The wind was fiercely cold on the bridge, howling like something out of a ghost story. Soldiers huddled around bonfires, or darted between wagons and supply caches, and more bodies; at least twenty, Krem guessed, shielding his eyes from the gale. Cassandra marched on, headed towards a makeshift desk set up in front of a tent. Krem recognised the hooded figure of Leliana, locked in an argument with a man in Chantry robes. As they approached, their voices became clearer.

 

“-prisoner must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It is our only chance!” Leliana was saying, ardent. 

 

“You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility.” The man’s voice dripped with derision.

 

“I have caused trouble?” Leliana reeled back, incredulous. 

 

“You, Cassandra, the Most Holy –” he sneered; drawing nearer, Krem could make out an accusatory expression, “haven’t you all done enough already?”

 

“You’re not in command here!”

 

“Enough! I will not have it!” Leliana was opening her mouth to retort, when the robed man caught sight of Cassandra. “Ah, here they come.” Leliana spun, and the relief on her face was plain. In the sunlight, Krem found her appearance almost startlingly colourful; flame-red hair peeking out from under her hood, her eyes vivid blue.

 

“You made it. Chancellor Roderick this is–”

 

“I know who he is.” He snapped. In contrast with Leliana, the man appeared grey-faced, sullen. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

 

Religion wasn't exactly Krem’s area of expertise, but Roderick seemed pretty confident in his title. Cassandra, however, seized upon him, eyes ablaze. 

 

“'Order me’?” She demanded, furious. “You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!”

 

“And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!” The chancellor shouted back; Leliana’s voice cut in, cool and calm.

 

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know.”

 

“Justinia is dead!” Roderick countered. “We must elect her replacement, and obey her orders on the matter.”

 

“With all due respect,” the three of them turned to Krem, with escalating expressions of surprise and outrage. “I don’t think we have time for an election. Isn't closing the Breach the more pressing issue?”

 

“You brought this on us in the first place!” Roderick jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction, stepping towards him threateningly. Krem held his ground and his gaze.

 

“Hey now.” Unexpectedly this was Varric’s voice, and the dwarf moved forward with Solas, almost protectively. “Let’s not lose our heads.” Roderick regarded them both with contempt for a moment before withdrawing, and turning back to Cassandra.

 

“Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”

 

“We can stop this before it’s too late.” She told him. 

 

“How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers.”

 

“We must get to the temple. It’s the quickest route.”

 

“But not the safest.” Leliana pointed out. “Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”

 

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path.” Cassandra argued. “It’s too risky.”

 

“Listen to me.” Roderick addressed Cassandra, but she didn't even acknowledge his presence. “Abandon this now, before more lives are lost.”

 

The Breach sang out again, and it was a wrench on Krem’s very soul, a fire from within. He breathed in sharply, and hearing, Cassandra turned.

 

“How do you think we should proceed?” Cassandra addressed him.

 

“I’m… sorry?” Krem said, uncomprehendingly, still feeling somewhat as if his insides were being scorched, slowly melting.  

 

“You have the mark.” Solas said simply.

 

“And you are the one we must keep alive.” Cassandra nodded. “Since we cannot agree on our own…”

 

Krem looked at her for a moment longer, before raising his head. 

 

“I say,” his voice threatened to break, “we charge.”  _ Horns up. _ He closed his eyes for a moment. Could've sworn right then, on anything, that he could hear their voices on the distant wind, like they were marching to his aid. 

 

_ For every bloody battlefield, we'll gladly raise a cup.  _ _   
_ _ No matter what tomorrow holds… _

 

Somehow, he shook himself free, found himself again; strangers at his back, mountains underfoot.

 

“I won't survive long enough for a trial.” Nobody tried to argue, and Krem thought that perhaps there were worse people to die alongside. Worse ways to die than to die fighting. “If I can stop this, it needs to happen now.”

 

“Leliana.” Cassandra’s voice was determined. “Bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.”

 

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker.” The Chancellor said darkly, and turned from them.

 

☼

 

Krem remembered little of the approach itself. Soldiers resting on the bridge rose to join them, most trembling, some clearly too wounded to fight. Any words of thanks he could’ve summoned died in his throat. Leliana left to travel with a smaller party of soldier through the mountain pass, promising Cassandra she’d meet with them at the temple. 

 

They passed many more wounded, and many more bodies. Soldiers, mages, and templars, dead or dying, all alike. Too many to count, too many for him to have possibly seen them all. Too many to think about. Limbs twisted horrendously, or torn clean off, exposed bones as white as the snow, mouths wide open in endless screams. 

 

Screams that could still be heard in the near distance.

 

“Be wary- another Fade rift.” Solas’ voice, tense, close to him.

 

One soldier he would remember for the rest of his life- he knew as soon as he saw, rushing down the stairs one moment, a pulse of arcane light from the rift bearing down on him, and he never turned, never saw it, only next thing his body thrown down the stairs in an explosion of rock and green flame, falling to the ground not inches from Krem’s feet. 

 

And then, battle. Krem had been in battle, but he’d never fought a war, and that's what this was. He had never seen so many people, so many weapons glinting in the sunlight, heard so many voices surging around him. Blood rushing in his ears. Had never imagined so many demons, thrashing and screaming and falling, vanishing into the crowd. The soldiers fell and were lost just the same.

 

A snatched glance with Cassandra, the impact of blade against claw, the softness of a body underfoot and no time to look down, the scent of blood and steel and sweat and death, a woman’s choked cry as she falls, close enough for him to catch her body-

 

“How many rifts are there?” That was Varric, sounding annoyed- bored.  _ Defence mechanism,  _ the Chief’s voice rang out in his head.  _ Hear that waver? He's terrified.  _ A shade caught him in the shoulder with a claw and pain seared through him; Solas shouted back.

 

“We must seal it if we are to get past!” 

 

Krem fell forwards onto his knees in a clumsy dodge, and the intended blow grazed the top of his head. The snow was freezing against his fingers.

 

A sword sliced through the demon’s neck, and when it disappeared, Cassandra stood looking down at him. She pulled him to his feet. 

 

“Quickly, then.” She told him.

 

With the fight still raging around them, Cassandra gripped Krem’s arm with her shield hand and staved off demons with the other, and he lifted his hand and after the green light of the rift had washed away, he noticed the skulls and the bones lying about them.

 

Swallowed, felt Cassandra let go of him, listened to Solas speak at him.

 

“Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

 

”Let’s hope it works on the big one.” Varric added, a note of encouragement in his voice. 

 

One of the soldiers, a handsome man dressed in elaborate furs, approached, sheathing his sword.

 

“Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the rift? Well done.”

 

“Do not congratulate me, Commander.” Cassandra replied. “This is the prisoner’s doing.”

 

Krem straightened reflexively under the man’s gaze.

 

“Is it? I hope they're right about you…” He paused expectantly.

 

“Krem.”

 

“Krem.” He acknowledged, and indicated himself with a gesture somehow formal yet casual. “Cullen, Knight Commander. We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.”

 

“Yes.” He could hear the faintness in his own voice. “I hope they're right, too.”

 

“We’ll find out soon enough.” Cullen said. “The way to the temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there.”

 

“Then we'd best move quickly. Give us time, Commander.”

 

“Maker watch all of you, for all our sakes.” Two soldiers approached, one propping up the other, obviously injured, listing to one side. Wordlessly, Cullen moved to his other side, taking his weight, and helped them stumble away. Krem felt a flicker of admiration as he watched the Commander move off.

 

☼

 

Entering the remains of the temple turned Krem’s marrow to ice. The stone and debris, crumbling underfoot looked like it had lain untouched for thousands of years, but looking carefully, Krem could reconcile a tumbledown wall with a memory of a high ceilinged corridor, an ornate antechamber- he’d walked these floors only this morning, and if asked, he’d have imagined they’d hold for centuries. Belatedly, he realised that the rest of the group were talking, and turned to Cassandra.

 

“...is where you walked out of the Fade, and our soldiers found you. They said a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.” 

 

Everywhere, there were burned and broken bodies, scattered heedlessly as broken glass. Some had been stripped to bone, by the force of the rift tearing open, he could only guess- their skulls open-mouthed expressions petrified. 

 

“The breach is a long way up.” Varric said, and Krem forced himself to follow his gaze.

 

This rift was easily ten times the size of any of those that they had fought their way past, and twenty times as intense with glaring light- Krem couldn’t look directly into it without squinting. What unsettled him most was the distortions it caused in the air around it; the world itself appeared to shiver with some inherent instability, like the air above a campfire. Krem looked to Cassandra, opening his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the approach of several sets of footsteps. Leliana emerged, weaving through rubble, flanked by several soldiers.

 

“You’re here!” She greeted them. “Thank the Maker.” 

 

““Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple.” Cassandra told her, and Leliana nodded, and began directing her men. Cassandra turned to Krem. 

 

“This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

 

“Ready.” Krem said, before he could hesitate, before he could think. “Let’s do this as quickly as possible.”  

 

“This rift was the first and is the key.” This was Solas, leaning in to better join the conversation.  “Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

 

“Then let’s find a way down.” Cassandra replied, briskly. “And be careful.”

 

With Leliana rejoining the group, and at Cassandra’ signal, the group began their descent, following a path that wound to the centre of the temple ruins; what must’ve been the grand chamber, now open to the looming white skies. 

 

As they drew nearer, Krem was startled by an unfamiliar, echoing voice that seemed to emanate from his own mind, but the others drew their attention to the rift itself.

 

“Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.”

 

_ Sacrifice,  _ Krem thought.  _ It just keeps on getting better.  _

 

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra wondered aloud.

 

At a guess: The person who created the Breach.” Solas supplied, slamming his staff against the stone to push his pace. 

 

Rushing now, the group passed by an blossoming of blood red crystals, like clusters of lycoris flowers protruding from the snow.

 

“You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker.” Varric called to Cassandra, eyeing it uneasily. 

 

“I see it Varric.”

 

“But what it’s doing here?”

 

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…” Solas suggested, without sparing it a glance.

 

“It’s evil.” Varric replied shortly, and then, with throwing a serious glance at Krem; “Whatever you do don’t touch it.”

 

Krem nodded his understanding just as the voice came again, seemingly loud enough to rattle his teeth inside his head;

 

“Keep the sacrifice still.”

 

Another joined it, and Krem resisted the urge to block his ears. “Someone help me!”

 

“That is Divine Justinia’s voice!” The grief Cassandra had been quashing bubbled to the surface, and her hand went to the hilt of her sword even as she broke into a sprint. 

 

Slipping on loose stones and snowmelt, half sliding down what was now more a slope than a path, the party reached the base of the rift. 

This close to the rift, it seemed almost to be sucking the world around it inward like some arcane whirlpool- embers of green light spiralled toward it, and were lost within. 

 

The mark exploded to life again, and nearer to the rift, the deafening dissonance of it had somehow resolved itself into something clearer, less chaotic. There was still an inherent confusion to it, but it was like being able to pick out voices in a room full of whispers. Full of song, captivating, alluring- a mystery to be solved. Krem found himself drawing a step closer. 

 

“Someone help me!” The voice was distorted, reverberating around the space eerily, but still Cassandra’s eyes were alight with determination, and Krem couldn’t help but think of what the Chief had told him about demon’s voices… 

 

_ Qunari superstition, _ he told himself. But then, a voice came in reply, and Krem’s heart stuttered in his chest.

 

“Stay away from her!”

 

Cassandra turned on him, mouth open in something between awe and shocked accusation.

 

“That was _your_ voice. Most Holy called out to you. But…”

 

And it was dragonfire all over again- a single, white hot blaze of it; a woman, dressed in holy robes, hanging in the air, bound by magic. Looming over her like a spider poised to kill an insect, a figure, indistinct, as if sculpted from smoke, with eyes glowing red as coals. And then Krem, throwing open double doors to reveal the scene, his voice a perfect repetition of what they’d just heard, every inflection the same.

 

“Stay away from her!”

 

“Run while you can! Warn them!” The woman in the robes- the Divine, voice unwavering, even as the red-eyed man moved to block her view. 

 

“We have an intruder. Kill him. Now.” 

 

And just as suddenly, it was over, with Krem gasping for breath as if emerging from underwater.

 

“You were there!” Cassandra’s own breath was ragged, but she rounded on him, grabbed him by the shoulders. “Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

 

“I don’t remember!” Krem said helplessly, fighting down rising panic, digging his nails into his temples, as if he could claw the memory out. 

 

“Echoes of what happened here.” Solas’ voice was calm as ever. Gently, he separated Cassandra and Krem from one another. “The Fade bleeds into this place. “This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily.” 

 

He gestured up towards the scar itself, and then to Krem.

 

“I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

 

“That means demons. Stand ready!”

 

All around him, Krem heard the knocking of arrows, the unsheathing of swords, flurries of foosteps- soldiers moving to support them. Soldiers on a suicide mission. He drew his own sword, and raised his hand upwards.

 

If closing the smaller rifts had been an implosion, a rapid collapse of one’s lungs and heart and consciousness, tearing open the Breach again was an explosion, a shattering, of an infinitely larger magnitude. Krem didn’t have the vocabulary to describe the sensation. His only thought, blinded by the blazing green light, deafened by the song of it, the cacophonous music, as he sank his teeth into his lips until he drew blood, was that this would tear him apart. 

 

“Now!” Cassandra shouted, as the feeling rushed away, as Krem, drained, exhausted, blackness at the edges of his vision clearing, found himself staring into nine spider-like eyes, black as void. The demon opened its jaws, revealing a row of monstrously sharp teeth, and electricity crackled into existence, dancing around its claw tips.

 

_ Not as big as a dragon.  _ Krem thought dizzily, stupidly, before it brought its fist down towards him, and he rolled out of the way. A spray of pebbles and stone where he had just been standing. Still, the demon drew itself up to its full height once again, and laughed- or something like it; let lose an inhuman cackle, wrong in the way that a bird imitating a man’s voice is wrong, even as arrows bounced harmlessly off its armoured skin. 

 

“We must strip its defenses! Wear it down!” Cassandra called, already hacking away at its ankles to little apparent effect.

 

As Krem watched, the demon summoned a long tendril of lightning from thin air, and, wielding it like a whip, slashed at her with it, sending her flying. More soldiers ran to take her place.From a distance, Solas and Varric fired bolts, arcane and mundane, to join the hail of arrows. Krem ran to pull Cassandra to her feet- she took his hand, but pointed away from the demon as soon as she was upright.

 

“Quickly! Disrupt the rift!”

 

With a nod of assent, Krem took off, lifting his hands as he ran, a bolt of green light arcing between his outstretched fingertips and the rift itself, building, building until- a pulse of arcane energy. 

 

“The demon is vulnerable – now!” He heard her call from behind, more arrows loosed and this time sinking into skin. He turned to find the demon dazed, its horned head hanging limply, as if it were asleep on its feet, and hurried to it to slash and stab, frenzied. Eventually, it stirred, and awoke suddenly as if from a nightmare, bringing its lightning whip down in front of it hard with a vengeful roar. Bringing its clawed hands together, it summoned an orb of electrical energy, and sent it spinning towards the archers, who called out in fear and were forced to leap away from it. Krem was spattered with dark blood when he heard the warning, almost drowned by the crackle of Solas’ magic, and the discordant music of the rift;

 

“More coming through the rift!”

 

Smaller demons- shades, terrors, wraiths; revenants from the river path, emerged in blazes of emerald fire. Krem caught sight of a shade lurching towards Solas, whose attention was fixed on the largest target, and was forced to break away from the main fray, practically tackling him out of the way of its grasping talons. A few good blows and it went down screaming; with his mind conjuring up a nostalgic image of Dalish, he positioned himself protectively beside Solas- anything that drew too close to the mage was run through with a blade.

 

There was nothing Krem usually loved more than a good, fair fight, but he’d entered into this battle bone-tired, and the tides of demons seemed to just keep going. Soon he was gasping for air thick with the scent of blood, racing to the rift to disorient the demons every time he saw an opening in the roiling sea of glinting metal and arcane fire. A soldier fell into time as one of the archer’s own arrows pierced his throat. He pushed him off and kept going. 

 

What felt like the hundredth time Krem tore himself away from the rift, it was to find the largest of the demons had fallen to one knee. Blood seeped from gaps in its scale like armour, and the electricity rushing up its arms and spine fizzled and died. Krem had not yet reached it again when a soldier he didn’t recognise leapt at it with a ferocious battle cry, burying her sword up to the hilt in its chest. She was swatted away, thrown into a wall hard, fell, didn’t get up again. But the damage was done. 

 

The demon swayed once, twice, and toppled forwards, sending up a cloud of dust. Krem was already turning  away from it, dropping his sword, when Cassandra, her voice harsh with urgency, cried out to him;

 

“Now! Seal the rift!”

 

_ Give everything you have left or it’ll all have been for nothing.  _ Krem told himself, stretching out his hands as if reaching out desperately for help.  _ Please. _ He thought, as the the light grew and grew until it was brighter than blinding.

 

“Do it!”

 

The strange music seemed no longer to fill him but to become him, and the world around him, and the light and the noise and the tearing and the shattering built and built into a chorus, a chorus of countless screams.

 

 

_ Please.  _

 

Louder than he could’ve ever thought to imagine, and then-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the wait! Thank you all for your encouragement and your patience, it means the world, and I hope this fic continues to be an enjoyable one. 
> 
> Oh, and Sleeping at Last's song Earth helped to spur me on while I wrote this- give it a listen for some apocalyptic ambience.


	4. And find silence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three days pass before Krem awakes in Haven- but he isn't alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little short, but I decided I'd rather update frequently, and since I'm moving properly on to The Threat Remains in the next chapter, it seemed more logical to cut it like this. Thanks so much for all of your patience, and hope you enjoy!

The wood grain of a cabin roof, knots and lines patterning it, dark ripples and fingerprints. There was the soft weight of a woven blanket, the whispering warmth of a fire- Krem jerked up abruptly, dislodging carefully placed pillows and quilts. Nausea hit with the sudden movement like a blow to the face- he clutched at his forehead, let out an involuntary groan. Across the room, an elven servant straightened in surprise, a wooden box slipping from her grasp.

 

“Oh!” She called out, as the box hit the floor with a thud. “I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!”   
  


“It’s alright,” Krem’s tongue felt thick and dry in his mouth. “Please don't worry, I just-”

 

“That’s wrong, isn’t it?” She said fearfully, worrying at the hem of her dress with her fingers. “I said the wrong thing.” 

 

“You didn't do anything wrong-” Krem began, but before he could finish, the elf sank to her knees, trembling.

 

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” Krem shrank back uncomfortably, hesitated, but the woman seemed to be waiting for a reply.

 

“Please ser,” she flinched at the equalising pronoun, “You have nothing to apologise for.” She reluctantly rose, her gaze still on the floor. “Can you tell me where I am?”

 

“You’re back in Haven, my lord.” She said, with a touch of awe creeping into her voice. “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!”   
  


Krem pressed his fingers to his temples. Yep, definitely a headache coming on. 

 

“The Breach is sealed?” 

 

“The Breach is still in the sky,” the servant said uncertainly. “But they say that the danger is over.” She jumped suddenly, as if startled by a thought. “I’m sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once’!”   
  


“And where might I find her?”   
  


“In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor, but I must go ahead of you. 'At once,’ she said!” She retrieved the dropped box, and made to leave, but her hand hovered above the door handle. “And…” She turned back, expression anxious. “Well, it's not only her waiting to see you, my lord.” The servant pulled open the door, and when Krem’s eyes adjusted to the glaring white daylight, a figure came into focus- another elven woman, who turned at the sound of the door opening, caught sight of Krem and scoffed.

 

“Cut off my ears and call me a shem, it's about fucking time!” The rough trill of her accent was more welcome than any voice Krem had ever heard. Krem felt the smile break out on his face, struggling into a better position to better look through the doorway. And then Skinner called over her shoulder, “Hey, you lazy fucks! He's awake!” and his heart soared.

 

Skinner practically flattened the poor servant girl in her haste to enter the room, and one after another, the Chargers appeared in the doorway; Rocky and Dalish jostled with one another to get inside second, and Stitches ducked past them, his medicine case tucked under his arm. The pair stumbled forwards when Grim pushed them into the room from behind, and followed them in, catching Krem’s eye and nodding his greeting. And behind him, having to duck awkwardly to get his horns in through the narrow door, the Iron Bull. A weight he hadn’t recognised until it was gone was lifted from Krem’s bones. 

 

Somehow, and with much scrambling, squabbling, and some violence, they all reached him at pretty much the same time, and immediately began all talking at once.

 

“Krem de la créme!”

 

“Cremisius, oh thank Mythal!”

 

“Lieutenant, if you  _ ever do that again _ -”

 

“Stay still, let me look you over-”

 

Before he knew it he was laughing from the relief, felt the tears gathering at the edge of his eyes and made no effort to hide them.

 

“It's good to see you guys, too.” Their chatter ceased at once, and the six of them just looked at him. He could only imagine that from their silence they were as relieved as he was, felt a spark of gratefulness and love ignite in his chest. “You- have no idea how good, actually.”

 

He paused, sucking in a steadying breath.

 

“What took you idiots so long?” He added, grinning. 

 

“We thought you were dead.” Skinner said, blunt as ever. “The Chief was beside himself with worry.”

 

“That's enough out of you.” Bull grumbled, cuffing her over the back of the head.

 

“Aw, Chief! I’m flattered.”

 

“Oh Cremisius,” Dalish clasped her hands together in delight. “We are so glad you're okay!”

 

“Ahem,” Rocky coughed. “Hate to interrupt the happy reunion, but…” he jerked a thumb in the direction of the ruffled elven servant, still pressed against the wall, seemingly frozen between a fuss-or-flight response. 

 

“Lady Cassandra said,” she squeaked, wide eyes flickering from one weapon to another, “no-one was to see him until-”

 

Krem saw five mouths opening in unison, undoubtedly to tell her to piss off, and quickly interjected. 

 

“It's alright, they're with me.” He promised her, unable to stop his bright smile even as he told himself it was probably less reassuring to be beaming at her like this. “I'll be along to Seeker Pentaghast as soon as possible, just give us a few moments?”

 

She considered this for a heartbeat, sizing up the motley crew, before inclining her head, and backing out of the room, closing the door behind her.

 

“Thank you!” He called out after her, just a moment too late.

 

“You're charming as ever.” Rocky said wryly.

 

“Shut up.” Krem said with no conviction whatsoever- his delight was plain in his voice. “What are you guys even doing here?”

 

“What are we doing here?” Stitches asked incredulously, seizing Krem’s arm and pulling it this way and that, apparently searching for signs of injury. Krem allowed this without complaint, but as Stitches rolled back the long sleeve, he was struck with the uncomfortable realisation that he was no longer in his armour, but in different clothes entirely. Which meant someone had  _ seen _ , and yet, that servant had still called him “lord,”...He closed his eyes briefly, and willed the worry away, focusing on the conversation instead. 

 

“Looking for our missing Charger, of course.” Stitches went on.

 

Grim made a noise of affirmation.

 

“And I wasn't kidding before, Lieutenant,” Bull remarked dangerously, crossing his arms. “You ever do anything like that again-”

 

“Yeah, yeah, you know you love me chief.”  Krem waved him off, and was pleased to see him fighting a smile. “What happened with you guys? Dalish, were you okay to get here?”

 

“Oh, I am!” Dalish assured him.

 

“Dalish woke up right as rain again not two hours after you left,” Stitches reported around a mouthful of vial- he unscrewed the lid with his teeth and handed it to Krem. “Drink this.” Krem knocked it back at once and then exploded into a spluttering coughing fit.

 

“What's in this?”

 

“You'd rather I don't tell you.”

 

“Point taken.” He scrubbed his unmarked hand over his mouth roughly, working his jaw in an effort to get rid of the aftertaste. “So, unless Stitches has developed a sudden and unrelenting desire to hold hands with me, I’ll take it you heard what happened.”

 

The group exchanged communicative looks, but gradually, their eyes all went to Bull.

 

“What, it’s my job now?” He complained.

 

Grim raised his eyebrows.

 

“Okay, okay.” He turned to Krem reluctantly. “Yeah, we got most of the story. In fact, some big stuff has changed since you've been out of it-”

 

“What?” Krem interrupted. “How long was I out?”

 

“Three days.” Dalish said brightly, holding up her fingers to illustrate her point.

 

Krem blinked, startled, and then dug his nails into his scalp, remembering belatedly what the serving girl had said; 

_All anyone has talked about_ _for the last three days._

 

“Vishante kaffas.” He muttered, pulling at his hair in frustration. 

 

“Since the Conclave went  _ boom _ ,” Rocky jumped in, “the rebellion’s properly gone off. Fighting everywhere, it's a right clusterfuck. And that’s not to mention this Herald of Andraste business-” 

 

Skinner brought her boot down hard on his toes.

 

“Ow!” He rounded on her, fuming. “Now what the fuck was that for?” 

 

“He’s only just woke up, Rocky!” Dalish admonished, wide-eyed, linking arms with Skinner, who cracked a triumphant smirk and flipped the dwarf off. Rocky turned away, muttering to himself. 

 

“Well, you've got to tell me now.” Krem affected a jovial tone, but worry was beginning to bubble up in his chest. 

 

Grim gestured to Krem, and then jabbed a thumb towards the door.

 

“He’s right.” Bull said with a sigh, unfolding his arms. “We’ll explain on the way. In the meantime let’s go find your Seeker, Kremsicle. Pentaghost, or whatever it was.”

 

“It’s Penta _ ghast _ !” Dalish corrected, rolling her eyes, just as Krem said;

 

“She's not  _ my  _ Seeker.”

 

“Pentaghost, Pentaghast. Humans and your stupid names.” Bull muttered, eliciting a snicker from Skinner and Rocky alike. “Get your ass out of bed, Krem.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Krem said, swinging his feet down onto the floor. He shook a little when he first stood, but Stitches was at his side to steady him, and he found his footing quickly. Grim tossed him some balled clothes, which he caught with ease. He elected to duck, however, when Skinner hurled a boot in his direction with entirely unnecessary force. 

 

“Wow, thanks,” He said, retrieving the boot from the floor. “I missed you too.”

 

“Get dressed, idiot.” She said affectionately,leaning against Dalish, even as he began shrugging out of the linen shirt he’d been dressed in. “If I have to wait around for another second I’m going to lose my mind.”

 

Lost in fabric as he pulled on the clothes Grim had thrown him, he smiled warmly to himself. Whatever was waiting for him outside the door, he knew he could face it with his family by his side.


	5. Not alone do we stand on the field of battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Conan, who does not have an AO3, but whose lovely comment spurred me on to finish this. Thank you all so much for your continued support!

“What.” Krem hissed, tugging the borrowed leather glove more firmly over his marked hand. He spoke to Bull out of the corner of his mouth, attempting to retain a relaxed smile that had probably turned into more of a grimace. “No, seriously. What the fuck.”

“In my defence, they weren't out here when we came in.” Bull replied, without looking at Krem, his expression a mask of confidence, of indifference.

The mountain air was still and bitterly cold, but despite the weather, the path leading to the cabin was lined with twenty uniformed soldiers, stood to attention, fists curled to their chests in salute. Behind them, a crowd of at least fifty refugees, underdressed for the snow, huddled in groups, whispering amongst one another, all of their eyes on… Krem.

The _‘vint_. The _soporati_. The human Aqun-Athlok. While he enjoyed a good audience to his stories in a warm tavern any day of the week, this kind of crowd… there existed too much of a good thing. He felt quite suddenly an uncomfortable weightlessness in his stomach. The mark pulsed with heat under his glove. 

Bull moved off, walking purposefully straight down the centre of the path, and Krem hastened to follow him, making a conscious effort to keep his chin up and his eyes forward. The rest of the Chargers flanked him like a patchwork vanguard, openly staring down those watching them. While Krem himself was trying not to look, it didn’t mean he couldn’t listen.

“That’s him.” One man said, excitedly. “That’s the Herald of Andraste! They said when he came out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over him.”

Rocky snorted, but Grim hushed him with a finger to the lips.

“Hush! We shouldn’t disturb him.” A woman replied seriously.

“Walk safely, Herald of Andraste!” A call rang out.

“Who _are_ they with him? Why’s he travelling with a Qunari, of all things?” Another voice broke in, tense and suspicious. 

Krem let his eyes drift to Bull, but there was no indication that he’d heard the comment. Not that there would be if he had.

“...a mage- a _wild_ elven one at that!” Someone spoke with undisguised disgust.

Skinner swung her head like a big cat to glare in the direction of the comment, her nostrils flaring, all predator, but Dalish pulled her along.

“They’re not worth it.” She said, her distinctive lilt still musical to Krem’s ears. “Besides, I’m not a mage, am I? Silly people.”

Skinner growled, but allowed Dalish to tug her away.

The group walked on in silence for some time, passing more soldiers, more civilians. The words “Herald of Andraste,” recurred throughout the murmurs, and set Krem’s teeth on edge. Bull led the Chargers up a flight of stone steps, and a woman called out to Krem;

“Walk safely, Herald of Andraste.” 

The burn of their eyes on him grew with each passing moment, and he began to long for the relative privacy of the wooden cabin.

“Good luck sealing the rifts!”

 _Rifts... plural?_ Krem focused on where Bull was taking him- they were weaving their way towards a looming stone building decorated with the red and gold flags of the Chantry. As they drew nearer, they came upon throngs of scarlet robed brothers and sisters, speaking hushed and urgent. Krem caught Chancellor Roderick’s name amongst the murmurs, but soon they were at the towering double doors. 

When Bull pushed the doors open, the musty smell of incense, oils, and old stone swept over them. The interior of the Chantry was darker than Krem had expected, the only source of light the dim glow of candles clustered around the stone pillars, casting flickering shadows. The Chargers’ footsteps echoed in the silence as they proceeded down the aisle, towards another set of doors embellished with iron wrought sconces on either side.

Krem was raising his hand when Skinner caught him by the arm and motioned for him to be quiet. She tugged at her earlobe with her free hand, and only then did Krem hear the raised voices, muffled by the dark wood.

“Have you gone completely mad?” He recognised Roderick’s snarl instantly and wrinkled his nose. “He should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine.” 

Rocky rolled his eyes and made a mocking gesture with his hands.

“I do not believe he is guilty.” Came Cassandra’s reply, artificially civil.

“The Tevinter failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, he intended it this way.”

“Now what in the _fuck_ kind of evil plan would that even be?” Bull wondered.

“I do not believe that.” Cassandra said, and Stitches nodded to himself approvingly.

“That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to the serve the Chantry.” 

“My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours.”

Dalish’s jaw dropped- she shook her hand limply, and turned to Krem, mouthing, a long drawn out;

_“Burn..!”_

Krem rolled his eyes fondly, and pushed open the door.

At the sound of the doors, Roderick whirled on them all, and then gestured to the guards lining the walls. 

“Chain him, and detain the rest.” He demanded, jabbing a finger in Krem’s direction. “I want him prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”

Krem felt the Chargers bristling around him, but before any one of them could step forward, Cassandra cut in, voice steady.

“Disregard that, and leave us.” In perfect synchronous motion, the guards saluted her, and marched out of the room- the Chargers were forced to enter fully, stepping away from the doorway to let them out. In the tide of passing people, Krem caught a glimpse of the hooded Leliana, leant over a large table, the centerpiece of the room, examining it with keen focus.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.” Roderick was glaring at Cassandra.

“Hey now,” Bull spoke up, raising his hands in a diplomatic gesture. “From what I've heard our man here did everything he could to help you out. I think we should all just talk.” 

“I did not come here to negotiate with a beast,” Roderick spat. “It’s clear from the company this man keeps-”

“That’s quite enough of that.” Cassandra began, just as Krem, anger sparking in his veins, interjected;

“I think you’ll find that the company I keep is no-one’s business but mine, and I don’t appreciate-” He had started forward towards Roderick, but Stitches caught his wrist. When he glanced back, Stitches levelled him a meaningful look, and reluctantly, he closed his mouth and yanked his hand out of Stitches’ grasp. 

“Here’s what we know.” A silvery voice rang out. Leliana pulled back her hood, exposing fiery red hair- Krem resisted the urge to glance at the Chief to see his reaction- and overlooked the room. “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live.” At this, she cast a pointed glance in the Chancellor’s direction, and his expression turned sour.

“I am a suspect?” Roderick asked, incredulous.

“You, and many others.” Leliana replied evenly.

“But not the Tevinter and his band of... degenerates.” 

“We have a name, you know.” Skinner drawled, but she was completely ignored.

“I heard the voices in the temple.” Cassandra stated. “The Divine called to him for help.” 

“So his survival, that thing on his hand –” Roderick’s words quickened with outrage, “all a coincidence?” 

“Providence.” Cassandra declared. “The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour.”

“Yikes.” Rocky whispered beside Krem’s ear, and he couldn’t help but agree.

“Woah, woah,” He said. “Let’s not go jumping to conclusions- I- don’t exactly seem like prophet material, now do I?” Bull whacked him in the back, hard.

“Don’t go fucking up your out, Lieutenant-” He said, under his breath.

“The Maker does as He wills, Krem. It is not for me to say.” Cassandra replied, conviction in the hard set of her jaw.

“She knows your name.” Whispered Dalish, unnecessarily. Krem elbowed her as subtly as he could.

“I told her my name.” He mouthed back. Dalish arched here eyebrows in surprise- Bull looked disapproving. Leiliana spoke up;

“The Breach remains and your mark is our only hope of closing it.”

“This is not for you to decide.” Roderick glowered, only to jump at the sound of a heavy bang. Cassandra had slammed a leather bound book into the centre of the table, sending small figurines skittering off onto the floor.

“You know what this is, Chancellor?” She asked, pushing off of the table and stalking up to Roderick. “A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” He stepped back as she drew closer- _Rookie mistake,_ Krem thought, as his shoulders hit the wall, and Cassandra poked him in the chest with one finger. He looked as cornered as he would have been if she had used her blade.

“We _will_ close the Breach,” She jabbed him once, “we _will_ find those responsible,” twice, “and we _will_ restore order with or without your approval.” A third time, and she stepped back, nodding in the direction of the door. The Chancellor hesitated for a moment, and then, with a noise of dismissal, he was gone in a whirl of red and white robes. 

“So… that happened.” Muttered Rocky. Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose.

“My apologies for Chancellor Roderick. He is…”

“An asshole?” Skinner supplied helpfully. Krem was only half successful in stifling his laughter, and Cassandra chuckled begrudgingly.

“Hm. Well put.” She admitted. She turned her attention to Krem. “Judging by your disposition, I take it that these people are who they say they are, and not a very strange group of kidnappers?” When he furrowed his brow, she elaborated; “The Bull’s Chargers. They say they are your family.”

At the word, _family,_ Krem broke into a grin, and gave the group- who were suddenly all pointedly gazing off in various different directions- a look that communicated that he thought they were all saps and that he was _absolutely_ never going to let this go.

“Right. That they are.” He said aloud, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“Good.” Cassandra nodded. “They knew so much about you, we determined that they must be telling the truth.”

“And we kept a close eye,” Leliana, who was now tracing the title of the book absently with a finger, added, without looking up. “Even if they did not notice us.”

Krem made a mental note to confirm that last part with the Chief later. 

“But, enough pleasantries. We have work to do.” Leliana lifted the book with a gentleness borne from reverence, sweeping the dust away from the cover carefully. “This is the Divine’s directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos.” She looked up at the Chargers, eyes icy and determined. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice,” Cassandra stated, still staring at Krem. “We must act now. With you at our side.”

Rocky let out a laugh. 

“Him?” He said. “No offence, Seeker Pentaghost-”

“Pentaghast.” Stitches corrected, exhaustedly.

“Whatever. But where he goes, we go. And we’re-” He jutted a thumb towards his face, “an exiled dwarf, a vengeful city elf-” He nodded at Skinner and Dalish, who were holding hands, “a dalish mage,”

“I’m not a mage.” Dalish complained. 

“Who think she’s an archer,” Rocky went on, “a guy who never talks,” Grim nodded, “a seven foot tall Qunari and a ‘Vint with a glowing green hand. You really want us on side?”

“What about Stitches?” Dalish pointed out.

“‘Eh. He’s pretty normal.” Rocky conceded with a lazy shrug.

“Hey.” Stitches said in an offended tone.

“My point;” Rocky sighed. “Half of us don’t even believe in your Maker, and if you think we’re gonna fight your war-”

“The war will catch up with you one way or another, even if you leave.” Cassandra challenged. “You are already involved, and its Mark is upon you all now.”

“And what is the Inquisition, exactly?” Krem addressed Leliana. 

“It preceded the Chantry: people who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad.” Leiliana said, by way of explanation.

“Appropriately vague!” Skinner said with mock delight. Dalish stood on her toes, which escalated into an unsubtle shoving match.

“After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order.” Cassandra continued. “But the Templars have lost their way. We need those who can do what must be done united under a single banner once more.” She paused. “I can tell from your faces you are not exactly enthusiastic about this. I remind you that many still think that Krem is guilty. The Inquisition can only protect you if you are here with us.”

“We’re walking around with a big green target…” Bull muttered, and Krem winced.

“Precisely.” Cassandra said.

“Look,” Krem said reluctantly. “I don’t exactly know a whole lot about the Chantry, but if I can use the Mark to stop people from getting hurt…” The image of the green cyclone of light played behind his eyes. “If this thing can close the Breach…”

“That is the plan.” Leliana confirmed. 

“Help us fix this before it’s too late.” Cassandra urged. “All of you.”

“Chief-” Krem began, but Bull covered his face with a hand. 

“Just do it. ” He grumbled, and opened his eye to glare at Krem through the gap in his fingers. “I’m gonna kill you for getting us into this. Of all the random strangers to pick up off a tavern floor I had to pick the one with a _destiny_.” 

Krem replied with something between a grimace and a smile.

“I’ll buy you a drink.” He promised, and offered his hand to Cassandra; she clasped it firmly. 

At his side, Stitches and Bull each put a hand on his shoulder, and Grim, Rocky, Skinner, and Dalish all moved in to do the same. Krem allowed himself to breathe, and the warm green glow seemed to breathe with him.


End file.
